Zero: God Of Mercenary

Chapter 5: Legendary Red Card

“You stink asshole! We’re done! Don’t make me call the cops!”

Trisha screamed, and Oliver just sighed. 

“Not everything is about you, Trisha. I'm here for the business.”

Trisha eyed him from head to toe, her expression full of disdain.

“Business? You?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Please! You can’t even afford to walk through those doors. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because this is a private bank that only serves real VIPs,”

The guard standing nearby chimed in, rolling his eyes.

Oliver glanced at the guard, unfazed.

“Okay, and what if I am one of your top clients?” he asked.

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“If you’re a top client, then I’m the President.”

“Like a stray dog pretending to be a lion,” Trisha added, smirking. “Stay out here and watch me go inside, loser.”

She gave him one last smug look before strutting through the doors and into the bank.

Oliver let out a quiet chuckle, then turned to the guard, his voice calm but firm.

“Here’s my card. You can check it out.”

He handed the guard a small, red card.

The guard hesitated, took the card, and scanned it.

But as Oliver was about to relax, the guard grabbed him by the collar, eyes blazing.

“You think you can trick me just because I’m a guard?” he spat.

"What are you talking about?" Oliver confused by his sudden actions.

The guard shoved the red card back in his face.

“This isn’t one of our cards! We don’t issue red cards—not even to our regular clients!”

Oliver frowned.

“I knew it. Only a bum would try to pull a cheap trick like this!”

The guard grumbled. He pulled out a stun baton, ready to activate it.

But before he could, Oliver caught his wrist in a grip of iron.

The guard discovered with horror that he couldn't move an inch.

“That thing’s dangerous. Don’t wave it around,”

Oliver warned, his voice low and serious.

Just then, a well-dressed woman approached, radiating authority.

"Is there a problem here?" she asked, her voice is beautiful.

“Miss Rebecca,” the guard stammered, lowering the baton at once.

Rebecca was the customer relations manager at Umbrella Bank, known for her poise with elite clients.

"The noise out here is disturbing our customers," Rebecca said, her sharp eyes surveying the situation.

Then, she turned her attention to Oliver, her tone shifting to one of professionalism despite his appearance.

"May I ask what brings you to the bank today?"

The guard let out a scoff.

“Don’t waste your time, Miss Rebecca. This guy’s a bum with a fake card and call it red card.”

Rebecca’s brow furrowed as something flashed in her mind.

“A red card?” she repeated, her gaze falling to the card in Oliver’s hand. “May I see it, please?”

Without a word, Oliver handed it over.

She examined the card for a moment, her eyes widening in realization.

"This… This is a real red card!"

The guard blinked in confusion.

“But… we don’t issue red cards. Right?”

Rebecca nodded slowly, her expression one of awe.

“That’s true,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Red cards are so rare, they’re not even listed in the manuals. They’re practically a legend around here. I can’t believe I’m standing in front of someone who actually has one!”

Without wasting another moment, Rebecca quickly pulled out her phone and made a call.

"A VVIP has just arrived,"

She announced, her voice filled with urgency. She then turned to Oliver, bowing slightly.

“I apologize for the guard’s behavior. The bank will make sure this is handled properly. Sir…?”

“Oliver,” he said,

Beside them, the guard’s face drained of all color.

Clang!

The stun baton slipped from his grip and clattered to the ground.

He stammered, looking at Oliver in sheer panic. “S-Sir… O-Oliver… Please… I... I…”

The guard understood the gravity of a VVIP.

He’d just tried to throw out one of the highest-ranking clients in existence.

He might lose his job— or worse! He might be fined a great amount of money to compensate for the damage.

But Rebecca barely paid more attention on the guard anymore.

Instead, she focused on Oliver, with a warm, respectful smile.

“Please, follow me. I’ll assist you personally, Sir. Oliver.”

Oliver nodded and walked beside her into the bank.

As they passed through the lobby, every employee stopped to bow and show respect, their eyes tracking Oliver and Rebecca as they walked.

Trisha, still at the counter, leaned over to the staff member assisting her.

"What’s going on? Why is everyone treating that loser like he’s royalty?"

The staff member leaned in and whispered, "He’s got the red card, Ma’am."

Trisha’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"The red card? You mean the one reserved for the high-ranking officials from the capital of Colossia?"